Marjorie S Vacation

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Reproduction of the original: Marjorie ́s Vacation by Carolyn Wells

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"[...]the diningroom. They were followed by Mrs. Maynard and Rosamond, and after them came Kingdon and Kitty. Kitty was a golden-haired little girl, quite in contrast to Marjorie, who had tangled masses of dark, curly hair and large, dark eyes. Her cheeks were round and rosy, and her little white teeth could almost always be seen, for merry Marjorie was laughing most of the time. To-night she wore one of her prettiest white dresses, and her dark curls were clustered at the top of her head into a big scarlet bow. The excitement of the occasion made her cheeks red and her eyes bright, and Mrs. Maynard looked at her pretty eldest daughter with a pardonable pride. "Midge," she said, "there are just about a hundred things I ought to tell you before you go to Grandma's, but if I were to tell you now, you wouldn't remember one of them; so I have written them all down, and you must take the list with you, and read [...]".

The swing was one of those big double wooden affairs that hold four people, so the Maynards just filled it comfortably. It was a lovely soft summer day in the very beginning of June; the kind of day that makes anybody feel happy but a little bit subdued. The kind of day when the sky is so blue, and the air so clear, that everything seems dreamy and quiet. But the Maynard children were little, if any, affected by the atmosphere, and though they did seem a trifle subdued, it was a most unusual state of things, and was brought about by reasons far more definite than sky or atmosphere. Kingdon Maynard, the oldest of the four, and the only boy, was fourteen. These facts had long ago fixed his position as autocrat, dictator, and final court of appeal. Whatever King said, was law to the three girls, but as the boy was really a mild-mannered tyrant, no trouble ensued. Of late, though, he had begun to show a slight inclination to go off on expeditions with other boys, in which girls were not included. But this was accepted by his sisters as a natural course of events, for of course, if King did it, it must be all right.

Seventeen-year-old Mia reluctantly accompanies her family on a Southwest vacation, only to find it full of interesting experiences--like meeting new boys.

In the Maynards' side yard at Rockwell, a swingful of children was slowly swaying back and forth. The swing was one of those big double wooden affairs that hold four people, so the Maynards just filled it comfortably. It was a lovely soft summer day in the very beginning of June; the kind of day that makes anybody feel happy but a little bit subdued. The kind of day when the sky is so blue, and the air so clear, that everything seems dreamy and quiet. But the Maynard children were little, if any, affected by the atmosphere, and though they did seem a trifle subdued, it was a most unusual state of things, and was brought about by reasons far more definite than sky or atmosphere. Kingdon Maynard, the oldest of the four, and the only boy, was fourteen. These facts had long ago fixed his position as autocrat, dictator, and final court of appeal. Whatever King said, was law to the three girls, but as the boy was really a mild-mannered tyrant, no trouble ensued. Of late, though, he had begun to show a slight inclination to go off on expeditions with other boys, in which girls were not included. But this was accepted by his sisters as a natural course of events, for of course, if King did it, it must be all right. Next to Kingdon in the swing sat the baby, Rosamond, who was five years old, and who was always called Rosy Posy. She held in her arms a good-sized white Teddy Bear, who was adorned with a large blue bow and whose name was Boffin. He was the child's inseparable companion, and, as he was greatly beloved by the other children, he was generally regarded as a member of the family. On the opposite seat of the swing sat Kitty, who was nine years old, and who closely embraced her favorite doll, Arabella. And by Kitty's side sat Marjorie, who was almost twelve, and who also held a pet, which, in her case, was a gray Persian kitten. This kitten was of a most amiable disposition, and was named Puff, because of its fluffy silver fur and fat little body. Wherever Marjorie went, Puff was usually with her, and oftenest hung over her arm, looking more like a fur boa than a cat.

In the Maynards' side yard at Rockwell, a swingful of children was slowly swaying back andforth.The swing was one of those big double wooden affairs that hold four people, so theMaynards just filled it comfortably.It was a lovely soft summer day in the very beginning of June; the kind of day that makesanybody feel happy but a little bit subdued. The kind of day when the sky is so blue, and theair so clear, that everything seems dreamy and quiet.But the Maynard children were little, if any, affected by the atmosphere, and though theydid seem a trifle subdued, it was a most unusual state of things, and was brought about byreasons far more definite than sky or atmosphere.Kingdon Maynard, the oldest of the four, and the only boy, was fourteen. These facts hadlong ago fixed his position as autocrat, dictator, and final court of appeal. Whatever Kingsaid, was law to the three girls, but as the boy was really a mild-mannered tyrant, notrouble ensued. Of late, though, he had begun to show a slight inclination to go off onexpeditions with other boys, in which girls were not included. But this was accepted by hissisters as a natural course of events, for of course, if King did it, it must be all right.